Dealing with the Vampire
by Frosted Failure
Summary: In which Rumplestiltskin is a 300-year-old vampire Belle calls upon for aid.
1. Chapter 1

It was late in the evening when the light rapping came at her door. Late enough that the winter's night had fallen hours earlier, but still not quite so for Belle to have been fully asleep, merely propped up with pillows in bed while dozing with a book in hand. She blinked blearily for a moment before calling for the servant to enter.

"My lady, he's here!" The young girl, Mina, dashed inside and hurriedly closed the door behind her. "He's answered your call!"

The book was tossed onto the bed as Belle frantically threw herself out of bed, shedding her nightdress to tug on the elegant gold gown Mina pulled from the wardrobe. She ran a brush through her tangled curls while the girl laced up the gown, trying her best to look at least somewhat presentable for one of the most powerful men in the country, perhaps even the world.

"Where have you put him?" she asked, heading out the door in a flurry of silk, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer than necessary.

"In the library, my lady," the girl answered as she followed Belle out of the room.

Taking a deep breath, Belle nodded. _Do the brave thing._ "Make sure no one in the court knows he's here," she cautioned the girl, "especially my father. Do you understand?"

It wasn't normal for the noblewoman to act the part around the servants, but Mina knew what was at stake and didn't fault her lady for the brusque manner. "Yes, my lady. I understand." She paused for but a moment before wrapping her arms around Belle and squeezing tightly. "Good luck," was whispered in Belle's ear and then she was gone, leaving Belle to traverse the drafty corridors alone.

_Bravery will follow._ She screwed her eyes up tight as she reached the grand doors to the library, willing her heart to not jump straight out of her chest, fearing he would hear it even through the doors. It was said their hearing and vision were extremely heightened, and she wished, if at all possible, for him not to know just now terrified she was at being in his presence on this particular occasion.

Pushing through the fear, she entered the room with a burst of false confidence, sending up a prayer to whatever higher power might be listening that she would not fail. She could not. Everything depended on it.

He stood with his back to the door, facing the fire that blazed high enough to both illuminate and warm the room against winter's chill. His profile was a match to the strong, mysterious image she'd retained of him from her one childhood meeting, and it was almost comforting to know he had not changed physically in all those years. Perhaps he still had that kindness within him that prompted a powerful man to offer a perfect rose to a crying child.

The garments he wore were similar, as well. Solid black, it seemed, with a leather coat etched with designs of intricate scrollwork that glimmered in the dancing light and fitted pants that disappeared into tall boots of the finest quality. She could see as she neared that there was a splash of deep crimson across his chest in the form of a silk shirt, adding to the air of danger about him.

"My lord," she spoke softly as she stopped at the ring of chairs surrounding the fireplace, "I thank you for coming."

When he turned away from the flames to regard her, it was with a sneer marking his features. "I am no lord, child." His voice was cool and controlled, with a lilting accent coloring the words. Had he set out to make her one of his conquests, she had no doubt her knees would be turned to jelly at the sound of it, but in this instance it had no application to the matter.

"And with due respect, sir, I am no child." Though she supposed, to someone his age, they were all akin to children, especially with their petty wars, like children arguing over toys in the playroom. From the look he gave her, she also judged that she should try not to be so very much herself and keep her tongue in check, lest she offend him with impertinence.

His dark eyes raked over her form, taking in the decoration on her dress, the heeled shoes on her feet, and the way her hands clenched at her sides. "Are you frightened, dearie?" He stepped closer to her, until he was but an arm's length away, and it was then that she noticed the cane he carried and its ornate silver handle.

Honesty. She would not lie to this man when she so desperately needed his help. "Yes, sir, I am."

"Of me?" he enquired, pressing a pale hand to his chest.

"No."

Narrowing his eyes, he lifted a hand toward her, revealing long, pointed nails at the end of thin fingers. "I can tell you're lying," he warned, stepping closer still to take a curl between his fingertips, those nails brushing against the line of her jaw as he did so. "I can hear the rushing of blood in your veins…"

"I'm not lying!" she protested indignantly, meeting his gaze without hesitation and steadfastly ignoring the notion of his paying attention to anything to do with her blood. "I'm not frightened of you, there's no reason for me to be." Not too much of one, anyway. "I'm frightened of what will happen if these negotiations fall through."

A dark chuckle flowed past his lips as he let go of the curl and moved past her to peer at a shelf of books dedicated to the history of her land. "Negotiations? You assume I've come here to deal with you."

Belle forced herself to stand a little straighter. "Why else would you be here?" she tossed back. "You know from my letter that my people are in trouble. The armies are approaching and we have no hope of surviving the onslaught in our current weakened state. We need _help_."

"So you desire a deal with the Vampire, then." A sigh seemed to sink through his body, sliding down from shoulder to toe like water falling down stone. It gave an impression of weariness that had not been there before, and that was completely beyond her understanding.

_Do the brave thing and bravery will follow,_ she repeated to herself before diving in headfirst. "Sir, I grew up hearing stories of your dealings, all of them casting you in darkness, claiming you to be a monster," she explained, picturing herself in front of her father's council instead of beside a creature that could kill her in the blink of an eye. "But what I have taken from those tales is a sense of fairness; the Dark One never goes back on his word, exactly, but instead exploits the holes left in contracts signed without proper inspection. Anyone else we could deal with would take payment and run, or turn on us while we're at our weakest, but you won't."

He was quiet for a long while, as if truly contemplating her words. Finally, with his gaze still on the spines of books, he asked, "Do you really have such faith in me, dearie?"

"I do." She would brook no argument on the issue.

"Then let us strike our bargain."


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter 2_**

Four days after the deal had been struck and the contract signed in Belle's own blood, her father received word that the enemies' armies were retreating from their borders. Eleven days after that, news arrived of a treaty between the warring nations. Another six days later, the first set of relief aid came from the king, to help rebuild the outer lying towns of her father's land that had been all but decimated.

Belle could scarcely believe it as she listened to the first reports at a meeting of her father's council; he had kept his word. He'd held up his end of the bargain, meeting every condition of their arrangement down to the smallest detail. The war was over; her people could rebuild their lives in safety. So now it was her turn to honor their agreement, and she found herself both terrified and exhilarated at the prospect.

"What about these, my lady?" Mina asked, holding up two pairs of boots for inspection. In the past month, the girl had been more friend than servant to Belle as she helped her mistress prepare for the changes coming into her life, and Belle felt she could never fully express her gratitude for the younger girl's support. To at least attempt to show her thanks, she had already arranged for Mina to be moved to a much higher placement without the castle, one where she would have more responsibility and respect, and where she could earn a bit more coin to take home to her family.

Pausing in her sorting of the many books that had gathered on her bedroom shelves over the years, she pointed to the sturdier and more utilitarian of the pairs. "It had better be those," she decided, adding one book to a very small pile beside her trunk and returning the others to the shelf. "He says there's heavy snow in the winters, and I'd rather go in prepared than have to worry about it later."

"I'll get out the heavy undergarments, then," Mina decided with a nod, retrieving a pile of fabric from drawers and a few sets of gloves from a box on top of the bureau.

"Thank you, Mina," Belle said with a small smile, her words answered by a knock at the door. She signaled Mina to continue with what she was doing and went to answer the door herself, revealing a slightly nervous looking Gaston holding an envelope in a gloved hand. He was in his formal uniform, meaning the council meeting had only just recently adjourned, or he may have even been called away from it to receive the message. She didn't have to guess to know who might have sent it.

Taking the envelope from him, she spared barely a glance at the golden seal before breaking the wax and unfolding the paper within. "His man Jefferson will be here at first light," she relayed as she read the perfectly penned note. "Whatever I cannot bring now shall be sent for later." With a sigh, she returned the page to its home and added, "Well, that's good to know, packing for the unknown has been an utter nightmare."

Gaston had been fidgeting while she read, his eyes hardly staying in one spot for more than a second, and now that she was finished, he finally spoke to voice his worries. "Belle, are you _sure_ this is what you want to do? Don't mistake me, I do not doubt the soundness of your judgment, but as you yourself just said, you have no idea what you're going into. You know what they say about him—"

"People can say whatever they like," she interrupted, her voice soft but incredibly firm. She'd been listening to these same protests for a month now and she was entirely sick of them. "What's done is done, Gaston. I've given my word; we've been friends since we were children, you know I can't betray that trust. He played his part, and I have to play mine."

"You really believe it will be as you agreed?" he questioned further, genuinely concerned for her well-being.

"I do," she confirmed. "He upholds his contracts, and ours is quite clear. I am to be his companion, the caretaker of his estate, and assist in business matters when the situation calls." He opened his mouth to protest and she held up a hand to halt the words. "I was very detailed in my list of things that would be deemed inappropriate during my employment, and he agreed to all of them, including the stipulation that I am not to be coerced into such things for any reason by either his associates or himself." In truth, she was quite pleased with herself for the arrangement they had designed together; it had taken hours to complete, but he had seemed to respect her more for the care and thought she had put into the contract that would essentially dictate the rest of her life.

Gaston looked almost crestfallen when she finished, like a rose that had wilted in the sun. Reaching out to take her hand in his, he gave her fingers a light squeeze and nodded. "I've been trying for weeks, I suppose there really is no way I could talk you out of this now."

Belle tugged her hand away to wrap her arms around him in a hug. "No, there isn't," she affirmed, "but thank you for caring to try."

**III**

Sunrise came far too early for Belle's liking. She was certain she hadn't slept a wink in the night; she'd been too anxious about the coming journey, going over her packing for a fourth and fifth time to be sure she had everything she would need right away.

Jefferson arrived precisely on time as the first rays of sun hit the castle's turrets, one of the maids hurrying in to collect her as footmen carried her rather large trunk downstairs. Belle had met him once before, just days after the conference that had resulted in her current circumstances; he'd brought her an official contract to sign, allowing her plenty of time to read over it and be certain nothing had been altered in any way. A copy of that contract was stowed safely in her case. She offered Jefferson tea before they left, a morning meal and the opportunity to rest a bit, but he declined politely, explaining he'd stayed at an inn on the outskirts of the city and was rested enough for the journey they would be making.

Her trunk was secured to the top of the carriage by the driver, a nondescript man of few words who did not seem to want to enter into any sort of conversation, and then the goodbyes were said. Her father hugged her so tightly she was sure he would never let her go, and Gaston swept her up as well, whispering in her ear that she need only say she was unhappy there and he would arrive at once to rescue her, as proper knights should. The old joke was enough to give her the strength to smile as Jefferson helped her into the carriage and wave as they drove away from her loved ones.

Silence filled the space between them as her companion gave her plenty of time to compose herself and arrange her thoughts. Her hands clutched at the bag on her lap, containing a few books and other personal effects. They were nearing the edge of her father's lands by the time she was able to speak with any clarity.

"Would you mind terribly if I asked you a few questions?" Her voice was quiet but certainly not timid, and she watched the man across from her as he straightened up a bit in his seat, tugging at the sleeves of his elaborate coat and the scarlet lace that peeked out above his hands. Now that she thought about it, his clothing very much resembled the Dark One's from their meeting; she doubted it was coincidence.

"Of course not," he said with an almost flirtatious smile, clearly glad to have something to do other than look out the window at boring scenery. "We have to do something to pass the time; we won't reach our destination until late tomorrow evening."

"Oh." She hadn't expected their journey to last as long as that. In her research, she'd found little reference to the location of the Dark One's castle; much of the time, he came to those requesting his assistance, not the other way round. "Right then. How long have you… been in our employer's service?"

"About a century, give or take a decade," he answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It's hard to keep track of, these days."

Belle turned wide eyes on her traveling companion, her job dropping at his easy admission. _A century?_ "But that would mean you're… But you look nothing like him!" The words were out of her mouth before she could think them over properly, and she slapped a hand to her lips far too late to undo the damage.

She wasn't sure what sort of reaction she was expecting after her thoughtless outburst, but the carefree laugh that came rolling out of him was certainly not it. He actually had to wipe tears from his eyes and take deep gulps of breath before he could speak properly. "I think I'm going to enjoy having you around, Belle," he said between a few lingering chuckles. "We haven't had this sort of amusement in the castle in _decades_. But, to answer your question, yes, I am indeed vampire, but a different sort than the illustrious Rumplestiltskin."

"I didn't realize there _were_ different sorts," she admitted, feeling slightly foolish, even though she knew she shouldn't. She'd read at least a dozen books on the subject, and not a one had made a single mention of there being more than one kind of vampire in existence. If it wasn't in her books, then she surmised it a fact not widely known, which was quickly confirmed by Jefferson's next remark.

"It's not something we advertise." It was said with an air of finality that firmly put the subject off the table for discussion. And yet he smirked as he said it, so even though there was a warning in the words, there was no threat behind them—truthfully, it said quite a lot about his character, and Belle found herself rather grateful for this chance to get to know her new acquaintance.

The whole thing was marvelously intriguing, though. Her employer possessed an incredibly pale complexion that was noticeably unnatural, while Jefferson simply looked like he hadn't gotten much sun in some time, which was easily explained by the winter season. Rumplestiltskin had elongated canine teeth that were visible when he smiled or spoke with affectation, but Jefferson's teeth appeared to be mostly normal, save for the sharper points of a few. And there was just an air about them both… They both had a wildness about them, to be sure, something animalistic lurking beneath the surface, like a predator stalking prey, only Jefferson was more akin to a house cat while Rumplestilkstin was one of those large felines that could tear a person to shreds in mere seconds. There was a beauty to them, an allure, but it did not obscure the clear danger presented by their very nature.

Jefferson had been watching her while she contemplated things, and now he tilted his head at her, as if by looking from a different angle he might uncover her secrets, and finally he asked, "You're not afraid of this at all, are you? Signing away your life to one of the most feared and dangerous men in all the lands, and you're not afraid." There was amazement in her words, and a hint of almost reverence in his eyes, as if she were some sort of salvation. She didn't understand it.

"No, I'm not," she said with a shake of her head, then sighed and gave him a small smile. "Well, maybe just a tiny bit. The unknown can be so incredibly frightening, can't it? But we must face each day with heads held high and courage in our hearts, for each day could be our last. This war made that perfectly clear to everyone in my land."

"I hope your people appreciate what you're doing for them."

She shrugged and turned her gaze back out the window, barely comprehending the landscape that went by them, her thoughts on all the brave men who had taken up arms and come back bloody and battered, so many of them dying under her watch in the infirmary, the survivors screaming in the night as memories of battle took hold. "It's alright if they don't," she murmured. "Just so long as they live, that's what truly matters."


End file.
